Mon Petit
by stargirl94
Summary: AU Javert's world changes when a woman leaves her baby on his doorstep. What if the boy is our future revolutionary? Can such a boy survive in Javert's black and white world? Can Javert be a father? Bad summary, the story is better! T for safety!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Everyone! Let me know if I should continue this! Heck I'll probably finish it for me anyways. This is my first story so no flames. Flames get you hate, reviews get you love! But seriously Review! I'll warn you the dates and times might not be accurate, but I don't care! If it's anything really major let me know. Thanks! I just was watching the concert and was like I wonder what would happen if Javert had a son? What if it was Enjolras? So naturally, I just had to write about it. So yeah... ENJOY AND REVIEW!**

Night was enveloping the quiet town of Montreuil-sur-mer. The streets were clear for everyone was safe in their houses or bundled up on a street corner. Only one walked the street that night. It was a woman with a very aristocratic air around her, even out on the cold dark street; you could see she was of importance. So, what would someone this important be doing in this little industrial town? The woman in the fancy fur coat was thankful for the darkness, if someone were to see it would ruin everything. She shivered and held the bundle she was carrying closer to her. If you were to see this woman, you could tell she has been crying. There were tears soaking her beautiful face and her golden hair was matted with snow. The most shocking part about this woman was her eyes. Her dark eyes were puffy from weeping. Her eyes were full with sorrow, a sorrow so deep that can only come from the loss of a loved one. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that had an address scribbled across it.

She looked up at the house that stood in front of her. It was a nice house, not an extravagant, but nice nonetheless. It wasn't a shack or in rambles but it wasn't a mansion. The outside was light brown with a dark brown roof. It had nine windows at the front and a white door. It had a little fence surrounding the house. On the roof, there was a chimney with smoke puffing out of it. This was definitely the place her friend, an officer in Marseilles, told her about. This was the home of Inspector Javert. Her friend knew Javert very well; they worked together before Javert was reassigned to Montreuil-sur-mer. He spoke very highly of the inspector; he said that Javert was a good man. She tucked the piece of paper back into her coat and began walking slowly to the door, the bundle clutched closely to her chest. She stood solemnly on the font step as the snow fell gently around her.

She lifted up the cloth to reveal a baby's face, his body hidden in the depths of blanket. Her bundle that she carried so delicately was a child. She gazed at his beautiful face still fast asleep. What was he dreaming about? Did he realize that his mother stood on a stranger's doorstep with those somber eyes? No, I suppose he didn't. It's for the best that he doesn't understand what's going on. It's better that he doesn't remember the woman, or so she keeps telling herself. The women caressed his blonde hair and kissed his cheek. "Mon petit, be a good little boy. I love you, sweet child. Don't ever forget that. I know it may not seem like it now. But one day you'll understand that this is for the best. I love you… always." She gave him one last kiss on the forehead and tucked a note in the blanket before placing the sleeping boy on the doorstep. Now with fresh tears she knocked on the door and called "Monsieur! Monsieur!" She waited for the sound of approaching footsteps before vanishing into the night. The only trace she had ever been there was the baby and the soft footprints already being erased by new snow.

* * *

Javert was sitting in the living room staring at the fire and smoking his pipe when he heard a knock at the door. Who would be here this late? He wasn't expecting anybody. Javert rose from his chair and as he walked to the door, he heard a woman's voice outside. Now he was intrigued. He hardly ever had any visitors and none of them were of the female persuasion. He opened the door to find nobody standing there. The air was cold against his face,he was just about to close it when he noticed a bundle on the ground. He crouched down to find that it wasn't a bundle at all but a baby. He quickly picked the child up. Who on earth would leave their baby, _a baby_, alone on the steps of a stranger in the cold December night? As he picked up the child a note fell to the ground. He squinted trying to search for the woman in the darkness but he couldn't see a thing. He muttered something about responsibility and children as he bent down to pick up the note. The only thing he could do was take the child inside for the night. He couldn't leave the poor babe outside. He would take the child to the orphanage first thing in the morning. Someone would take him. Javert closed the door and walked into his living room. He sat in his chair still holding the child. He opened the tear stained letter and began to read.

_Dear Monsieur,_

_I have no doubt that you are wondering why I left my child on your doorstep. I know that you're a good man, a police inspector. Please, please take care of him. He deserves a good home. I can't provide him with one. It's not safe for him. As his mother it is my responsibility to do what is best for him. This is it. This is the best thing for him. A mother knows. I know that yo will take care of him. I heard good things about you, I know that you are a good man, a fair man. Please take care of him. Tell him I am sorry that it has to be this way and that I love him. Please._

_God Bless you_

_P.S. His name is Enjolras_

That was all. He let the letter drop to the floor. She certainly can't expect Javert to raise her son. How could he? He didn't know the first thing about children. Why didn't she drop him off at a church or an orphanage? He would be better off. Or would he? Does a mother really know best? _Can I really raise… No. Stop it Javert. Fist thing tomorrow morning you will drop him off at the orphanage. _A yawn from Enjolras snapped him out of thought. The baby slowly opened his eyes. They were bright blue. Javert began to melt when little Enjolras looked up at him. He knew there was no way he could give the boy up now. All it took was that one look. All the innocence and sweetness and love, it was all there in those beautiful blue eyes. The peace was about to end as the baby realized that he wasn't in his mother's arms. The boy screamed for his mother. That cry alone broke Javert's wooden heart. So there he sat the whole night trying to sooth the wailing baby. His baby.


	2. Birthdays

You know the whole family rule if someone is still sleeping be quiet so you don't wake them. Little Enjolras Javert never particularly cared for that rule. Enjolras, always the first to wake made it his duty to wake up everyone else. Especially today because it was such a special day. He got up from the warmth of his bed and sprinted barefoot down the hall. He burst into his father's room and leapt onto the bed. "Papa! Papa! Wake up!" The little boy shouted and began jumping on his father's bed. Javert groaned then smiled, as the blonde boy shook him awake.

"Who's going to make me?" He asked in a sitting position. Before Enjolras could realize it, Javert grabbed him and laid back down all while tickling the laughing boy. "Papa stop!" Enjolras yelled between laughs. "We need to get up!" Javert stopped and stared at his son. He smiled and faked a yawn. "Really? I think I am going to lay her all day because nothing important is going on." He said putting an emphasis on important. Enjolras' eyes widened in surprise, "But Papa it's my birthday!" Javert feigned surprised and then looked at him doubtfully. "No, No. I don't think it is." To this Enjolras repeated yes it is several times before Javert was able to speak again. "Are you sure? Really? How old are you?"

Enjolras got off the bed and stood with his hands on his hips. He gave him a 'duh' look and extended his arm to show three tiny little fingers. "Three Papa! You should know this!" Javert smiled and got up from his bed. "Three years! That old already? I guess we do have something to celebrate!" Enjolras nodded fervently before running out of the room to go get changed. Javert got dressed then went downstairs to get breakfast ready. Soon after he was finished Enjolras ran down the stairs.

"Stay here for a minute I'll be right back." Javert left the dining room and entered the kitchen. The dining room was connected to the kitchen with the latter being more to the back of the house. He bent down and opened the cupboard. He reached his hands inside and pulled out a nicely wrapped gift. He had passed a toyshop yesterday and had found the perfect gift for Enjolras. So he bought it and hid it in the cupboard. He walked over and pushed the door to the dining room open. Enjolras was bouncing happily in his seat and was eating a roll. "Happy Birthday son!" said Javert placing the present in front of the grinning blonde. The said child spun around in his chair with a look of utter surprise. "You didn't forget!"

"How could I forget your birthday, now go on open it." Enjolras turned his attention back to the gift and tore at the colored paper. Enjolras' eyes grew big and his mouth hung open, "It's my own army!" It was a set of toy soldiers dressed in fancy reds and blues. Enjolras shot up from his seat and hugged his father. "Thanks Papa! I'm going to go play with them!" Enjolras disappeared into the living room which he quickly turned into a war zone.

Later that day Madame Boulaire brought over a cake, which was quickly devoured by the birthday boy and his two young neighbors. At the end of the day, Javert was exhausted with keeping up with the three year old. It seemed Enjolras was just as tired. He dragged his little body to the couch and crashed. Javert was thankful for this because he was about to fall asleep himself. He picked up the little boy and carried him upstairs to his room. He laid him in the bed and tucked the covers around the sleeping child.

To think that it was just three years since the mysterious woman left her child at his door. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He was grateful for that. He wished it could stay like this forever. His innocent child untouched by the horrors of the world. Javert still worried whether or not he could do a good job but it was moments like this one that made him think he could. Who would of thought that the steely eyed man would become putty in the hands of a child? He never thought it could happen, but here he was three years later with a little boy who would give the world for. "Je t'adore mon petit." Javert whispered, kissing his son on the forehead. He walked to the door and was about to close it when he heard a soft sleepy whisper. "Je t'adore plus, Papa." Javert smiled his eyes twinkling knowing three years ago he made the right decision.


End file.
